


Finch

by snarled_musings



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 21:39:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarled_musings/pseuds/snarled_musings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harold does a bit of reflecting</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finch

**Author's Note:**

> Just a snippet I got in my head. Scarily enough it's not slash- I couldn't even label it pre-slash in good conscience. It's just a temporary lapse...

Harold sighed as he pulled out the first aid kit. There was nothing he disliked more than halfhearted attempts at doing anything (except for when Bear ate his rare first editions), but Reese really took diligence to a new level. It actually slipped over into the realm of stupidity. The man had no concept of personal safety! When he brought Reese on board he hadn't anticipated spending quite so much time patching his asset up. It was lucky he wasn't squeamish, he reflected as he went back to the library. Reese's cover would have been blown ages ago otherwise. Or maybe Harold would be close to broke, considering the amount of money he'd have to spend to ensure people's silence.

 

Not that it would matter; he'd do whatever it took to protect his asset. His friend. Reese had slowly insinuated himself into Harold's lonely life. Somehow he'd become a corner stone in Harold's existence. He was a total contradiction to Harold. He was brash where Harold was cautious; soft-spoken where Harold was loud; good with people where Harold was introvert. They probably shouldn't work out. But then they shared a sense of duty, honor and a loathing of indifference and injustice. It bound them together, as surely as the fact that they were both ghosts.

 

That would be more than enough to ensure that they would have a good working relationship. But somehow they didn't stop there. There was a genuine warmth to Reese, and true kindness. The man also possessed enough guilt to last an entire army a lifetime. Harold knew penance when he saw it. But he also saw the pure joy Reese got from helping people. The man had a big heart. He gathered strays, even if they didn't know it. He'd taken detective Fusco under his wing, even if Reese would rather amputate a body part than own up to that. He was also fiercely protective of detective Carter, even though she'd help to get him shot and nearly caught. It took a while for Harold to figure out that they connected Reese, grounded him. By interacting with them he got proof of life.

 

For a long time Harold had envied them, but then Reese had become more outspoken. Harold had come to realize that in Reese's eyes he was much more than just an employer, a handler. That had made him understand the rare gift he was offered: friendship. True friendship, where Reese was willing to lay his life down for Harold. Truth be told it was more than a little unsettling; Harold didn't know how to repay that favor. Until he understood that he payed it back every day, by being there, relying on Reese. Giving him a chance to change things. Harold wasn't good with people, but he did believe he was good with Reese. He was certainly becoming quite a skilled nurse, even if he said so himself.

 

”Remove your shirt, Mr. Reese.” Reese glared at him and shook his head like a recalcitrant child. A child that could kill him with his bare hands, but still. Harold sighed. ”I need to look that wound over.”

 

”I can do it myself, Finch.” This time the sigh was deeper and he accompanied it with a head shake of his own.

 

”Unless you can grow eye stalks there's absolutely no possible way you can do it yourself. Now is not a good time for modesty, Mr. Reese. Remove the shirt.” He let that sliver of command slip into his voice, reminding his associate who was the boss. At moments like this Harold had no qualms pulling rank. With another long-suffering sigh Reese grudgingly slipped his shirt off. Harold stared at his shoulder.

 

”A tattoo? Really? It would have to have been done quite recently.”

 

”It is. Weren't you about to patch me up?” Harold leaned closer, fascinated by what he saw.

 

”I will, of course.” He peered at the tattoo. ”Unless I'm mistaken, that is a finch.”

 

Embarrassment was evident in Reese's voice. ”Just dress the wound, Finch.”


End file.
